A World Beyond Time
by Ax.Zarach
Summary: Even though Allen Walker is still missing, the Black Order must continue with important work, such as retrieving Innocence to enable the creation of more Exorcists and fight against the Millennium Earl's plans. Miranda Lotto accompanies fellow exorcists to certain docks in Russia. It's a chilly night. How will this mission turn out?


**A/N:** In the third chapter of the compilation 'I shouldn't have eaten this for supper' involving supper snacks leading to all sorts of dreams for Noah or Exorcists or both, Miranda encountered a certain Kamelot of foreign affairs. The sparks led to one reviewer saying their interactions resembled a lovely dance.

Writing about Sheril and Miranda is easier for me than writing the lengthy still-in-super-slow-progress second chapter of 'A candle in the window' involving Allen and Tyki Mikk, hence… here is the continuation of that one-shot involving Miranda and Sheril. Which may or may not become a multi-chaptered work of fanfiction. Canon-compliant and manga-compliant. If you wish to understand what this evolved from, see 12,000+ words of a chapter titled 'Time and Chaos' where clashing enemies became enemies who start to have a conversation.

 **Summary:** Even though Allen Walker is still missing, the Black Order must continue with important work, such as retrieving Innocence to enable the creation of more Exorcists and fight against the Millennium Earl's plans. Miranda Lotto accompanies fellow exorcists to certain docks in Russia. It's a chilly night. How will this mission turn out?

 **A world beyond Time**

' **DIE EXORCISSSSSSSSSSSSS** -' ended in jerky bursts of slippery red gore and unfinished drooling enthusiasm, neatly segmented into shredded rags of flesh thumping messily onto wet cement.

Lips parting in a soundless scream, the last akuma had only enough time to look horrified at what it had killed against its will, resulting in the remnants of its fellow akuma sprayed across the ground, before- A gleaming disc severed the airborne akuma's head from the neck, while another green blur sliced through its torso.

As parts of the last akuma began to fall from a starless sky, two pristine green circles of Innocence-controlled lethality arced soundlessly back to their owner. With discreet flicks of the wrists, four other gold rings were released from outstretched fingers and expanded rapidly into gigantic gleaming green discs whizzing through the air, further reducing the target's remaining body parts into something unsalvageable unless you were practised in the art of splicing badly shredded dead akuma jigsaw puzzles back together.

'Sofia, are you alright?' Anxious concern was nearly hollered from a certain exorcist maintaining a translucent green cubic barrier. Giant white handkerchief anxiously bunched in a calloused hand, the Finder next to her was mopping tiny rivulets of sweat off his face. His fellow Finders were not new to this, calmly using their devices to monitor and check for any more akuma approaching.

'Timothy and I have finished them off. Thank you for acting as bait. Now we can easily retrieve the Innocence hiding in the warehouse,' answered her companion, striding towards them. Menacing sharpness shrank back into harmless-looking rings, before sliding gently onto gloved fingers.

Exhaling a sigh of relief for the breath she had not realised she was holding, Miranda was happy General Klaud Nine had managed to find an Innocence compatible with this woman to become an exorcist. Unlike General Winters Socalo who became too scarily enthusiastic about eliminating all enemies of the Black Order, or Kanda whose temper was as short as the time he took to slice up every akuma in sight, Sofia Ling-Keris appeared to be a sane mesh of the two while exercising a patiently unruffled disposition very similar to General Tiedoll.

If Sofia could obtain the level of a General, Miranda was more than half-suspecting that one's battle prowess and accuracy would be more devastating over a larger surface area compared to the other generals. Her newest colleague had an interesting family heritage fusing parts of Asia and Europe. En route to Russia, their shared cabin and conversation on the train had been an eye-opener. Speaking at least three languages including German, exchanging views with Sofia was a pressure valve come undone, which could not be plugged again.

Sampling a candy from Sweden known as apple-brandy liquorice was not something she liked too much. Her reaction had made the new exorcist giggle. They had told each other about their countries, then shared a compilation of bad jokes from one of the leading English cartoonists of the year.

Eventually, Miranda wanted to know what this new exorcist thought about certain issues. Asking Sofia for opinions about the Black Order was akin to hearing ideas Miranda had not dared voice out to anyone, not even Marie or Arystar Krory.

Shifting back in her seat, lilting accent tightening into something possibly Slavic or a part of Asia Miranda could not identify, Sofia's candour was as clear as a child, yet her assessments were possibly more incisive than the Science Division. The Eurasian had many questions, and easily confessed to not knowing very much. Was this attitude similar for Generals? Finders? Exorcists? What did they fight for? What did they understand of their enemies? What did the highest-ranked leaders and cardinals of the Black Order believe, and what did they know about the enemies? Had any exorcists ever done anything differently, other than obeying orders and remaining ignorant?

What are akuma? What had the Noah been fighting for? Were those goals unchanged? What are Noah? How many Noah clan members were there? What did each Noah believe?

'Ignorance has never won anything worthwhile or significant, Miranda. I don't intend to wind up like so many previous exorcists. This is a war. General or not, it seems so many of you fight because of ignorance, hence you die. There is nothing you can change, if you won't learn or do things differently.'

Despite Sofia being four years younger than herself, Miranda did not feel older or wiser. The other woman made it clear she had no intention of being an exorcist forever. As to Allen Walker going missing? Maybe it was a good thing, because Allen Walker might be able to do something different and change the tide of this war. About the remaining Third Exorcists-

'If they have become full akuma and chose to switch sides? If they refuse to stop fighting for the Millennium Earl, even after being asked? I will kill them. Their skills and fire seals are obstacles I can overcome, given time and training. General Klaud is capable of helping me master the necessary.'

What that meant, Miranda had no idea. By turns kind and then calmly voicing such intentions, the woman sitting opposite her was somewhat confusing. Miranda was complimented for being willing to listen, while learning Sofia would not speak of these beliefs to most of the Black Order unless someone seemed open to such ideas. The barrage of questions switched away from the Black Order, Noah, akuma, and Sofia, to… herself.

'Miranda, do you want to be an exorcist forever? Have you ever considered a life beyond the Black Order? Do you want this unholy war to end?' Leaning forward, black eyes stared unflinchingly into unburnished brown-eyed discomfort.

'War is unholy. Victims are never-ending, and the only people benefiting are those who enjoy allowing suffering, or people making others suffer. I reckon it is important to understand which Noah members might be willing to reconsider this war. Identify any Noah who may change their minds.'

Being confronted with a hugely different perspective from someone who refused to back down? Mature defiance was a persuasive trait Sofia wielded in spades… Would Allen Walker be as steadfast and certain, when he reached this woman's age? Considering such a possibility made Miranda realise Allen Walker and the younger exorcists had a high likelihood of not surviving to the age of twenty or older, if the clash between the Black Order and the Noah escalated to greater intensity. And this eventual worsening of the war was unavoidable.

'If one Noah were to forge a bridge with an Exorcist… The war might change completely or change significantly. But as things are now, I don't see how a bridge can happen. It requires kindness, a willingness to treat someone from the other side as human and someone to learn from. Which Exorcist or Noah is suitable? Who would initiate? So much hate and lack of understanding… From what I have heard of his personality, Allen Walker might hold the best chances of making this happen, but everything is too unclear relative to him,' sighed Sofia, leaning back into the worn leather cushioning of her seat, and closing her eyes.

Thankful for a lull in a conversation which had become uncomfortable, Miranda was only too glad to turn off the lights with the other woman's agreement, then slip out to the washroom to brush her teeth. Timothy was not with them, being assigned to share the same cabin as the Finders. But sleep was slow in coming. Questions and details raised by a spunky Sofia Ling-Keris had taken on a life of their own, tossing and turning in Miranda's mind and conscience.

 _What do I want for myself? I want the war to end. I want us to live in peace. Not wanting to be an exorcist forever… how can Sofia speak of it so easily? I couldn't say that to anyone, without feeling traitorous. Lenalee and Allen… have they ever considered these questions before? What would they want for themselves? What can I do, to help them? Can I even make a difference... to change this war?_

The matter of which general this newest exorcist would follow was still not finalised, due to General Socalo aggressively disagreeing with General Klaud as to who needed more combat prowess and long-distance offensive capability in their unit. Despite being temporarily made uncomfortable, Miranda hoped Sofia would eventually join her group, even if General Socalo was "an unhinged basket case" according to Timothy. In the meantime, an Innocence was noted to have surfaced in a certain area of Russia, and these three had been sent to retrieve it.

Owing to unsettled security disagreements between the Black Order and parts of Russia, the exorcists for this mission had to carry out the search in the thick of night, where it was most difficult to see anything. Able to detect akuma being present but scattered, knowing they had to end any battles as quickly as possible, Sofia had suggested the idea of one of the group being bait, so she and Timothy could quickly finish any fights without needing to hunt for their enemies. Miranda had volunteered to draw out the akuma, using her Innocence to enclose herself and the Finders in a neon glowing beacon no akuma could resist.

The Port of Murmansk was thankfully ice-free all year round and not as big as other Russian ports, hence security was laxer due to less patrols. Miranda was also grateful for not being inspired to imagine icicles would grow from her buttocks, ice being a likely feature of other Russian ports in seasons colder than spring.

Dissolving her barrier, Miranda embraced a now-conscious and grinning Timothy who gave her a quick hug. Wheeling around to pepper a smiling Sofia with questions and two thumbs up, his cheerfulness was uplifting. Miranda glanced around. The wind was picking up speed, and unkind to exposed skin. An abrupt short gust nearly set her teeth chattering uncontrollably.

Massive ships and smaller ships were eerily silent behemoths moored until the early morning. Pieces of large damp tarpaulin messily covered all sorts of unloaded cargo which were neither here nor there, clustered in misshapen huddled groups of all sizes. Small lamplights at lengthy intervals severely needing shortening, enabling many bulky objects to project irregular bleak shadows. Overall surroundings were not helping her imagination and dislike for anything resembling haunted places or potentially violent muggings. Stray bits of rubbish were constantly buffeted about the ground and into the air by boisterous wind. Anything not heavy enough was perpetually disturbed. Many small things of all sizes and shapes were restless without reason.

That was why they almost did not notice the cables lazily snaking towards them. Whipping her head around, the newest exorcist reacted swiftly enough to unleash five of her rings, slashing through the writhing mass of heavy rubber-and-metal tendrils shooting toward them.

Unfortunately, Sofia wasn't quick enough to tackle three smaller groups of cables simultaneously exploding from three sides to easily overwhelm Timothy and the Finders. Cold damp artificial vines wrapped tightly around arms and legs and backs and necks, swiftly yanking them beyond the protective distance of Miranda's barrier before she could use her Time Record. Four helpless humans were suspended high in the air, held aloft by individual coils of metal and rubber twitching with a liveliness they should not possess. The golems of the Black Order recording everything had been easily snagged and crushed, then pulled apart to release their remains into decorating the stones with tiny fluttering bits of metal.

Before Sofia could target the cables restraining her friends, crates of all sizes were hurtling toward the unbound exorcist at a dangerous speed. For a split second, she considered dodging them, but an assault from several sides quickly rendered that option a no-go. It was necessary to neutralise this. Her endurance and agility levels were almost on par with the likes of Kanda and General Socalo, but she did not have their combat experience.

Unleashing all ten rings to slice up numerous crates and cables separating her from the other Exorcists and Finders, Sofia's decision managed to protect her from the obvious. Before her rings could be recalled and released again, a barrel struck Sofia from behind, knocking her to the ground. Even as she rolled over onto her back and tried to regain her momentum while her Innocence reached her, the pause proved to be critically detrimental. Another group of cables rapidly wound themselves in a suffocating manner around Sofia's body and neck, immobilising her arms and legs and pulling her off the ground.

From inside the protection of her Innocence, Miranda cried out their names as more cables wrapped themselves around her friends until they looked like almost-complete cocoons, faces and feet the only features visible. She could only watch in horror, as a forest of cables ruthlessly smashed her companions through the derelict roof of a nearby warehouse. Were they dead?

'Your friends are alive but unconscious, because I cannot have them aware of my presence. Any movement of cables will let me know if someone regains consciousness. Once you get them back to the Black Order for necessary aid, they will recover to fight again. This is a wretched place for a rendezvous. If it were not for one of the akuma yelling repeatedly in his tinny voice about a stupid protective barrier and making me notice from the Ark, before your friends moved to kill them all...'

Oh god. This night had suddenly taken a drastic turn for the worse. Stepping from behind a large tarpaulin-covered pile taller than himself, the speaker strolling toward Miranda Lotto looked almost exactly as he did in a certain dream. Black stigmata across a high forehead was harshly vivid under any lights temporarily illuminating them. The only differences were in his clothing and hairstyle.

Long dark hair tamed in a loose ponytail without a strand out of place, the enemy seemed unperturbed, as though heading off somewhere notable to his position. He also looked suitably warm in a long black coat and finely-tailored black pants, unblemished white cravat covering enough of the nutmeg-brown waistcoat peeking out from beneath stiff black wool. An impeccable outfit capped with well-polished gleaming black leather brogues in such surroundings made him even more incongruous. Miranda suddenly felt shabby.

'My lady exorcist, you obviously still refuse to smile or believe what I previously said to you in the dream. I have spared your friends here, risking my life to do so.' Arching one thin eyebrow at her, his voice was mellifluous, but his gaze greeted her with all the kindness of the winds making her shiver.

'Will you remove the barrier to allow us to converse normally, or must I do something to inspire you to better manners, Miranda Lotto?'

They stared at each other, this impasse ending much more quickly than in the dream. Closing her eyes briefly and exhaling a sigh, Miranda slowly reversed the only protection keeping this enemy at bay. It was hard to believe- What was she supposed to believe?

She had not believed Sheril Kamelot would keep to his words in a dream. She had not believed he would actively make a choice to find her. When he was not a Noah, he was a minister. Maintaining such a senior government position had her certain he would be too busy to do anything more, if he even cared. More than two weeks had passed without anything untoward, and the dream had nearly been forgotten… except for the information about the history of Bookman she had tried to uncover in the libraries of the Black Order Branches. She could not forget what the Noah of Desire had said about Lavi, and what Lavi had suffered at his hands.

And now, she had to face Lavi's tormentor in the waking world. His powers had proved to be as devastating and vicious as she had once endured, even though this was no longer a dream. Was Lavi still alive? How was Lavi? And Bookman? Before she could stop herself, concern was blurted out.

Displeasure was evident in a Noah's expression, as he unsmilingly watched her in silence without replying. And when he finally did so, golden gaze almost morphing into an intimidating glare, she was anything but assured. 'They are alive, and I have stopped torturing your friend.'

Almost indignant at his body language being unfriendly about her raising a main issue of unavoidable importance- Miranda chose to swallow reactive huffiness, upon realising the precariousness of her situation. Heavens, she was going about this all wrong. She had to be smarter.

There was nothing helpful about unnecessarily antagonising this Noah, regardless of whether he was telling the truth or not. He had not killed her friends, which was already highly abnormal. Perhaps he intended to keep his word, as he had once expressed to her. From the previous encounter, she had to be a Miranda he thought he could respect, if she was going to get anything useful out of him. Lavi's life depended on her.

Looking into his eyes without breaking eye contact, Miranda Lotto could not stop part of her actual self from slipping out. 'Thank you, Sir Sheril Kamelot. I apologise for my earlier lack of manners. I have not mentioned anything about the dream to the Black Order. It's just- Your being here is so unexpected and surprising- I did not think- I- I still do not know what to believe. I am trivial and insignificant, unlike you- You are a Noah, while I am an Exorcist- It should have just been a dream… Would you know how I am supposed to react in this situation?'

Soft laughter filled the air, as if tickled by her verbal olive branch. Bewildered, Miranda blinked up at him. Sheril Kamelot seemed genuinely amused by her response. Shaking his head slightly, he stopped close enough for her to consider retreating backward because two handspans of distance between a Noah and an Exorcist was not something making Miranda comfortable. The smile on his face did not seem faked.

'Ah, Miranda Lotto… Moments like this remind me of why I have missed you. My daughter Road is still lost to me, but that dream allowing me to meet you helped me feel much better. God might not be a complete bastard, but we'll see. I should explain why I am here.'

Those words did nothing to make her feel better. Everything he said only raised more questions, and- Had he just said he missed her? Oh no. Mentally sweat-dropping, Miranda did not want to be sentimentally considered by a Noah, especially not this Noah, who was a married man and did not seem to care about what his wife would think!

'Yes, an explanation would be most helpful. And you should not be making statements such as missing me, Sir Noah. You may mean nothing by it, but your wife would be scandalised and possibly very upset, if she knew.'

It was taking every ounce of courage she could muster, not to stammer or wilt under his scrutiny. Up close, Sheril Kamelot was more imposing and imperious than his behaviour in the dream. The moment the last sentence left her mouth, Miranda wondered why this man seemed unaffected by what she had just said. And contemplated the possibility of having made a terribly wrong choice of direction and words, if a sudden glint in those golden eyes was anything to go by. Head cocked to one side, lips curved in a manner Miranda found unsettling. Her antagonist's riposte was roguish and playful.

'My, my. Why your sudden distance in our familiarity? Might you be concerned for my wife? Or are you bothered because I have a wife? And how would you know I have a wife? Did you read up on me, Miranda? Why are you blushing?' Ending with a purr, one hand reached out and before she knew it, her ponytail was suddenly without its black hair ribbon. His laughter did not help her flustered attempts at trying to retrieve her ribbon from his grasp, which he easily tucked away.

The Noah now looked- He actually- Maybe- Happy? Flash of teeth momentarily framed in a grin, Sheril Kamelot appeared to be as unburdened and relaxed as a wayward schoolboy. To be surprised in this unexpected manner was to be reminded of not knowing anything personal about him. She had not thought he could be like this. She had not thought he could look- To see him smile like this, golden eyes alight with- Remembering melting candles of wax before a locked attic- And now- The inanity of this situation- Heavens, she was losing her train of thought. Was she blushing again?!

Shoving down the urge to stutter or run, she did not know where to look. If embarrassment was a killer, she would have been dead in Sheril Kamelot's presence several times over by now.

'Miranda, we really must have tea together soon, for pleasure and business. The only birds to be killed will be strictly metaphorical. Our paths are different, but our goals must align.' Snapping his fingers and stepping back a pace, one white-gloved hand was extended toward her.

'Do you like English afternoon tea, involving freshly baked scones alongside clotted cream and jam, with cucumber or watercress sandwiches? Or would you prefer tea with a Portuguese touch of fruits and sweets, such as maçã verde da Beira, to go with cakes and biscuits accompanied by pumpkin jam and butter?'

Rooted to damp stones, trying not to shiver from unrelenting winds, Miranda Lotto found his delicious descriptions of a not-yet-meeting stimulating her in unexpected places. Thoughts of luscious jam increased her saliva to wet her tongue, while her stomach whined from not yet eating supper. And- And- And- How could a German woman be standing here, in Russia, listening to a high-ranking Portuguese government official go into frivolities because they had met in a dream more than two weeks ago as enemies when he first attacked her to kill, but changed his mind to converse with her in English before another exorcist interrupted them to ask for her help, this Noah's words were currently having a greater and more immediate effect on her than the reality of him having just attacked and rendered her friends completely defenceless, her stomach was an easy traitor giving off the most embarrassing rumbles threatening to get louder, and-

The man smiling at her suddenly seemed to freeze. His relaxed expression stiffened into complete seriousness, eyes momentarily widening. 'Don't move,' was an authoritative hiss with an underlying current of something deadly urgent. Turning abruptly on his heel, his back was to her, leaving him wide open (if he had been an ordinary human in ordinary circumstances).

Able to peer over his shoulder, Miranda saw a dark portal opening in the ground less than three metres away. Someone rose and stepped out of it. Dark spiky hair in an exotic style, muscular build, black sunglasses covering eyes she could not see, odd white fitted vest to go with shortish black leather pants melding into high white boots- Vocal chords dried in her throat. Her stomach had fallen silent, chilled by an overwhelming emotion nailing her to the spot.

Another Noah.

How was she going to protect her fellow exorcists and Finders from a second Noah, especially when they were knocked out and helpless?

'Hello, Mercym. Are you here to spoil my fun? What brings you here?' The greeting was carelessly tossed out and if Miranda didn't know better before the second Noah appeared, she might have believed Sheril Kamelot thought nothing of this interruption. She could not see his expression.

'The Earl thought you might need back-up, since you left so quickly. The current remaining exorcists are the toughest to kill,' was the other Noah's reply. Miranda was immensely grateful for her current position, being mostly hidden by Sheril Kamelot standing in front of her. Keeping quiet suddenly seemed to be the best choice to go with not moving, as he had advised.

This second Noah was somewhat jovial, posture almost slack in comparison with the Noah accidentally acting as a physical shield for her. Even though she could not see his eyes hidden by impenetrable black sunglasses, it was impossible not to feel laser-like intensity of unvoiced intentions resembling darting pinpoints ready to pounce and pierce, switching attention to her and away from her to probably also assess the Noah blocking most of her from his view. She had a hunch his appearance of inattentiveness might be fatally deceptive. Wait, why did Sheril Kamelot tell her not to move?

'Since I have immobilised everyone present, except for you and one useless exorcist who cannot speak or move or do anything more unless I am merciful, your help is not necessary. This situation is completely under my control. Thank you for coming, but please inform the Earl I am grateful for his concern, and I will be back within fifteen minutes to join him at the table… after I have had my fun.'

Seconds passed, as both Noah eyed each other. With an affirmative grunt and a casual wave of one hand, the second Noah eventually left through the same portal. Sheril Kamelot did not turn to face her, even after the portal had disappeared. Miranda Lotto did not dare to move or speak. After what seemed like an eternity but was probably less than a minute, he slowly turned around. His face was possibly paler than before, but it was hard to tell.

'Who was that?' whispered Miranda. 'And thank you for standing between me and him.'

'Tyki, Lulu-Bell and Mercym are the best fighters in the Noah clan of more than ten family members. When it comes to a choice of killing anyone from the Black Order unless strictly ordered not to, those three siblings have the least regard for exorcists such as yourself.' Hand sliding up his neck to undo a black leather cord before slotting it into a pocket, Sheril sighed, letting loose his hair and closing his eyes to rub the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

As the implications of his words sank in, her knee joints threatened to become completely unhinged, while her mind scrambled for familiarity of what to believe. But she could not deny… One Noah had risked himself to lie to his Noah brother. Sheril Kamelot had saved her from a fellow Noah, a Noah who was most dangerous to her and her friends. And in doing so, he had also saved her friends from certain death, if they were hurt but not dead.

'I sense no more portals. No more akuma appear to be coming.' Opening his eyes, Miranda could see the incident had left a strain on him. A mild furrow remained between his eyebrows. Was he frowning at her?

This unexpected saviour was nimbly undoing pearl buttons of the black coat with his other hand. She had wished she could momentarily borrow that coat, ever since she saw it. This night had been too full of unexpected twists and turns. And right now, she was mentally stuck on his coat. Was he able to read her mind? Was he left-handed or right-handed? Could this mission get any more complicated?

'T-thank you, Sir Sheril K-Kamelot. You d-didn't have to. I don't k-know how to r-repay you- U-um, could I-'

Rattled to the bones by what had transpired this night, and still inwardly trembling from narrowly avoiding imminent death by one Noah because of being protected by another Noah, not helped by a too-cool temperature falling too quickly with the advancement of the night toward a new day- Miranda could no longer keep her speech even.

Speech ended in a squeak.

Warm- Her brain had stopped working, due to jammed signals and contradicting mental messages from another unexpected twist in this situation.

This is- Did he just- Why was- Sheril Kamelot was- Should not- Being improper- Warm- Good- No- What am I supposed to do-

'Hush. I must finish this explanation and return to the Earl as quickly as possible, or he and Mercym will get too suspicious. Listen and remember, Miranda. Get warm, as you hear what I have to say. Your teeth are making too much noise to formulate a proper reply but when I finish, anything you need to say must be short and concise. I need you to appear unruffled and normal.'

Head tucked beneath his chin, black wool securely enveloped her where she stood, pressed to his chest. Separated from unjustifiable indecency only by their clothing and the circumstances, his arms around her ensuring his coat kept her within much-needed warmth… Miranda Lotto ignored the burning flush on her cheeks.

Breathing becoming steadier, warmed by possibly more than his body against hers, she gradually felt much calmer. And listened to her enemy, buoyed by a mixture of too many emotions with slowly morphing feelings to currently understand.

* * *

'Thank you, Sir Sheril Kamelot. I apologise for my earlier lack of manners. I have not mentioned anything about the dream to the Black Order. It's just- Your being here is so unexpected and surprising- I did not think- I- I still do not know what to believe. I am trivial and insignificant, unlike you- You are a Noah, while I am an Exorcist- It should have just been a dream… Would you know how I am supposed to react in this situation?'

Where he had been unsure before, Sheril was now certain. It had been worth a rare sudden spontaneous decision bordering on rashness, which might trigger the Earl's suspicions. Sudden brashness was a choice he tended to avoid, and he was not sure if he liked it.

But from the first few moments of their second meeting now taking place in the waking world, he was starting to seriously consider how this exorcist might not be a dream too different and unbelievable from reality. If anything, Miranda Lotto was a dream possibly come to life.

What his instinct had gathered from the previous experience in the dream might be correct… which would make her dangerous to him. If so, she could not be a mere dalliance like many others, to exhaust and discard. And in her case, any dalliance or more meant he would probably have to kill her in time to come, for being an Exorcist and knowing too much. Even if she was not the Heart… why did she have to be an Exorcist? Was there no way to avoid such a scenario, depending on what might happen at the Garden of Versailles?

God had a horrible sense of humour but then again, God was a cold-hearted asshole for what had happened to the Noah ages ago. Her Innocence was unique among a long line of exorcists, but she might be even more unique as a woman compared to those he had met. He truly could not remember feeling so excited in such a long time, since becoming a Noah more than ten years ago.

Miranda Lotto still refused to believe what he had previously said, judging by her initial reactions to his appearance. Then again, it had been a dream, and anything could be said or done in a dream. And if their roles had been reversed, with her intelligently studious awareness about the history of how the Noah had always treated Exorcists? Scepticism and caution was what he would have exercised because of the circumstances from this unholy war. What would he have to do, or what would it take, to make such a stubborn woman eventually change her mind? Something was minorly jarring.

This was the second time she had mentioned being trivial and insignificant. With an Innocence as unique and powerful as hers, how could she say that? Was it because she could not use her Innocence to be limited in fighting and maiming, as most exorcists did? Had she not realised she was pretty? Sheril found it hard to believe Miranda Lotto would not have garnered any compliments or attention from men, even if she was far from the most beautiful women he had met.

Such sentiment was possibly due to her truly being self-deprecating, or a potential lack of self-confidence, or both. Had something deeply unkind happened in her past and if so, what was it? Was she naturally timid, which would be too quickly boring? This woman raised more questions than answers, whenever they met. And they had only met twice.

He could not sense her putting on a false front of modesty. Mixed with a frankness and openness he had not expected from any human, especially toward a Noah- This experience was priceless. He could censor or stop his reaction, but he did not want to. Unrestrained amusement only made her look even more confused.

Meeting after midnight, at such a poorly-lit and unattractive place, was not conducive to properly enjoying her expressions or those lively brown eyes. Time to explain why he was here, and it was not because he had to do so. However, what came out was not completely as he had intended.

'Ah, Miranda Lotto… Moments like this remind me of why I have missed you. My daughter Road is still lost to me, but that dream allowing me to meet you helped me feel much better. God might not be a complete bastard, but we'll see. I should explain why I am here.'

Hm. Was there something disagreeable in what he had just said? The German woman was now looking at him with what could be classified as "mortified" or "reproachful" or "guilty" or something resembling a badly-written gothic romance novel where ladies were too easily scandalised. Had she grown up in a convent, or experienced any convent education for a lengthy period in her childhood?

'Yes, an explanation would be most helpful. And you should not be making statements such as missing me, Sir Noah. You may not mean anything by it, but your wife would be scandalised and possibly very upset, if she knew.'

Delight at receiving such a prim reproach sparked mischief. He could not stop himself. He did not want to. This Exorcist had bothered to do research about his human status. And she was not an uptight religious nut. As in the dream, the human urge to unravel her and do all sorts of lovely and indecent things with her was mixed with a familiar growing bloodthirsty sadistic urge from the Noah of Desire, to break her in as many ways as possible and kill her. However, unlike the dream, his human side was obviously winning. He wanted to let that happen, instead of allowing his inner Noah to dominate. Would he regret it?

He did not know. For once, it was lovely not to care and clearly push his inner Noah to the back of his mind, even if a shunting of responsibilities was only for a few minutes. Sheril wanted this woman to believe him, regarding what he had told her in that dream. He wanted to tease her. She clearly lacked the joy of teasing in her life.

Swiftly undoing her hair ribbon and easily avoiding her fumbles at regaining it while tucking away an unexpected souvenir, he grinned. And proceeded to weave a spell of words, to entrap her in the waking world as he had once accomplished with her in a dream.

Just as he had finished describing the possibilities of the afternoon tea he could have with her, and awaited her reply, the Noah of Desire sensed a disturbing ripple of a certain type of portal nearby. A certain level of recognition set his teeth on edge.

It was not a typical portal- Miranda's Innocence was a non-combat type- Which Noah- Hissing at her not to move and hoping she had enough sense to stay quiet and follow his cues, Sheril quickly turned to face the direction of the developing dark portal, while ensuring the Exorcist was mostly hidden from view by his position.

On one hand, it was a relief not to see his actual brother Tyki, who was sometimes too incisive about certain tricky situations and might have made everything too complex to be comfortable.

On the other hand, facing Mercym might be more difficult than dissuading Lulu-Bell. Not that he had any previous experience doing so with this Noah, but he was about to find out.

'Hello, Mercym. Are you here to spoil my fun? What brings you here?' Affecting a guileless smile while pausing to exercise a frivolous gesture involving momentary assessment of immaculate black fingernails, the Noah of Desire did not look at his sibling.

The 7th Disciple was the Noah of Pity, but there was nothing pitying or pitiful in Mercym's scrutiny. The spiky-haired Noah might give strangers an impression of being an easy-going hobo bearing questionable competence, but Sheril knew better than to make such a flawed assumption.

'The Earl thought you might need back-up, since you left so quickly. The current remaining exorcists are the toughest to kill,' was the other Noah's reply. Dismissive nonchalance was all he received from a sibling who now looked rather bored.

'Since I have immobilised everyone present, except for you and one useless exorcist who cannot speak or move or do anything more unless I am merciful, your help is not necessary. This situation is completely under my control. Thank you for coming, but please inform the Earl I am grateful for his concern, and I will be back within fifteen minutes to join him at the table… after I have had my fun.'

The intensity of Mercym's stare could be easily nullified and without altering his demeanour, Sheril merely looked at the other Noah, not bothering to conceal boredom and bemusement. Seconds passed. Mercym finally left, without resistance and with an agreeable attitude.

Relief was overwhelming. If it had been Wisely who had turned up, lies would not work. Sheril did not want to use his powers on a certain exorcist, who was possibly petrified and unhappy at what he had just done to her friends. Good thing they were still unconscious. Turning back to her, he was puzzled. He could not understand the look on her face.

Being thanked in what sounded like a grateful manner nearly floored him. He had protected her, but… An Exorcist, warmly thanking a Noah? An Exorcist, being positive toward a Noah despite knowing what the Noah was capable of? This Exorcist was not hostile toward him, despite knowing what he had done to her Bookman friend? What kind of an Exorcist was Miranda Lotto? Could this encounter get any odder?

The memories of the Noah of Desire contained no such previous incidents regarding Exorcists. His inner Noah was clearly kerflummoxed. Pushing away the minor mental uproar which followed, he saw no harm in answering her question with minimal information.

A frown could not be restrained. She was shaking. Was she afraid? Of Mercym? Himself? Both Noah? Even though he gave her the assurance of no more Noah or akuma turning up, it was impossible not to notice her teeth chattering. What an irritating detail. Didn't the Black Order give a damn about ensuring their remaining soldiers had sufficient extra clothing in colder temperatures, especially when so many had been killed by his brother Tyki?

Whether she was frightened or cold or both, he had little time to spare. Once the Earl became suspicious, it was almost impossible to dissolve or reduce whatever was conjured up in a somewhat fractured mind containing a mental deck of cards far from properly stacked. And the most battle-capable of the Exorcists might regain consciousness soon enough. That one had a nasty talent of an Innocence he did not want to engage in a long battle.

Flirtation was not on Sheril Kamelot's mind, quickly measuring the situation at hand with ruthless efficiency. Methodically unbuttoning his coat and opening it, the easiest and quickest solution was to step forward and pull an unresisting Exorcist against his chest, wrapping his arms and the rest of the wool coat about her.

He needed to restore her to a semblance of normalcy, or her companions might suspect something was gravely amiss and refuse to believe the story she would have to tell them. She was stiff and cold, given her body temperature and how she had barely reacted. The Black Order was either short on funds or too stingy to be decent employers. A potentially sly idea bubbled up in the back of his mind and was placed in storage, for later analysis. Summarising the circumstances for her, what he needed her to hear was blunt and pointed.

Good. She was sufficiently warm and limber, for him to let go and leave. Their truce would hold here, but the real test would be at the Garden of Versailles, when he had to seriously increase the grilling ante and make certain decisions about her. As he moved away while asking if she had anything to put to him, her reply accompanying one hand on the back of his arm stopped him in his tracks.

'I will wait for your letter. Then we shall parley, as I once requested in the dream. I am far from being the most diplomatically-competent person in the Black Order, but I shall do my best at the Garden of Versailles. And not only because of Lavi.'

'Hellfire and damnation' briefly flashed through his mind in three different languages with slight variations in wording, being most vulgar in Portuguese. As always, it came back to the hammer-wielding Bookman Junior- Wait. Not only because of that youth? Maybe Allen Walker, an annoying Fourteenth inside an exorcist she had once angrily quizzed him about? What was with the unusual tone in her voice? Impulsively turning around to look at her, he was unprepared for the possibility of someone's life changing forever.

'Please be careful, Sheril Kamelot. There are lines you should not cross, risks you should not take. I do not want your family to be at odds with you, nor decide to do worse than that to you.' Oh. Had she just refrained from- Miranda no longer looked as if she was at a funeral. Grim opaque skies had broken, and gentle sunshine was- Her smile. Given to him. Freely.

In a moment of witnessing trust and kindness he had never anticipated, Miranda Lotto had inadvertently twisted a knife in a location Sheril had not known existed, until now. He had not doubted her character to contain tenderness for others which many women could easily do, but how could she do so, expressing… concern? For him, a Noah? Not as someone of a different class or species, but another human she could value and respect?

'I do not understand you, and we barely know each other. In this world, people need to ask and talk to each other more often, instead of only having pointless fights and exchanging insults. To be understood… Perhaps, at tea, we can connect as humans and friends, and not blindly Noah or Exorcist believing only as enemies, even if you and I might continue to oppose each other. Thank you for what you have done to help me and my friends. For your safety, you must go now. Please.'

Her gaze was steady and unwavering. She sounded gentle, but her convictions were steely. Something had been woven and connected and for once, it was not his doing. She cared. She was not playing. She was sincere.

Simplified accuracy and sophistication aptly balanced to snare the unwary made her a representative of humanity not to be trifled with, even if she might not be aware of how uncomfortably she could reach or what she had just done. He did not want to leave, and yet- Paralysed by conflicting urges, Sheril Kamelot blinked. And swallowed.

As Miranda moved away and broke eye contact, a white-gloved hand caught one of her hands. Bowing slightly and lifting black-gloved fingers to his lips, a chaste and solemn farewell was bestowed upon her fingers. He did not know how to look at her. Kissed by the wind, she was a riveting picture of transfixed emotions unspoken, lovely brown eyes innocent and wondering- For several seconds, larger fingers firmly refused to relinquish smaller fingers curling loosely about his thumb. When he did, releasing her and turning smoothly on his heel, opening a portal at least ten steps away seemed like the best option before meeting the Earl.

A short walk was necessary, to calm sudden racing of his heartbeat. Had he finally developed a heart condition of sorts? His heart was behaving very oddly in a span of minutes this night, threatening to upset his ability to function as he usually did. Must get it thoroughly checked, when he had discharged certain duties back in Portugal and was able to do so. But first, any doubts harboured by the Millennium Earl must be assuaged.

Miranda Lotto… What was she?

And why did the thought of her name make his chest feel uneasy?

He really needed a doctor. Preferably a heart specialist. With a bottle of brandy. And a cellar of port.

* * *

This man was just too confusing. Unlike him, Marie was a comforting breeze and easy to spend time with. Watching his back and the distance grow between them before looking at the ground, Miranda wished her heart would be less jumpy. Being around Sheril Kamelot gave that muscle a work-out she would prefer not to have and could not control. And they had only met twice.

When they met for the third time, what might happen?

Sheril Kamelot had been more direct, more business-like and less flirtatious than she had expected. His powers were as dangerous as he had demonstrated in the dream, but the man himself was a different matter. There were obviously layers and angles to him she had not imagined or considered, and the thought of previously oversimplifying him into a caricature almost made her feel guilty.

His behaviour was so easy to characterise in the dream, but far more elusive here. There was a personal distance she could sense, even though he was playful and serious by turns. In her experience, aristocrats were good at social pretence, but terrible at facing personally unpleasant music. If she were to compare Sheril Kamelot to other males in her life at the Black Order?

Allen Walker obviously had issues which always set her wondering if he was even aware of them, much less willing to face them. Kanda Yuu had issues living in a well of self-denial topped by a barrier of prickly thorniness ready to explode outward and dice anybody who brought them up. General Socalo gave no attention to "personal issues". That Leverrier was so creepy and obviously comfortable with his issues, he did not give a damn what others thought. Lavi's role as Bookman-in-waiting was too complicated for bystanders to figure out anything. Arystar Krory had come to terms with his issues, but still trying to figure out certain issues. Marie was obviously at ease. Thank God Jeryy existed, without having issues. Without realising, Miranda's vast trove of experiences made her most suited to evaluating Sheril Kamelot.

Sheril Kamelot. He had seemed confident and self-assured, but when she had treated him with kindness as a fellow human, knowing he was a Noah? His response… It was not secure or worldly. His discomfort and more was not what she had imagined. Quite the opposite of a wholly unrepentant sadist.

 _He'll weave words to m-make you reveal yourself… and then he will hurt you. Don't… ever… trust him… He acts too well…._

What Lavi had said… Somehow, Miranda could not agree anymore. Was Sheril Kamelot used to hiding himself, as many aristocrats did? Was he running from certain issues and aware of doing so, hence putting up a facade to make people believe what he wanted them to see? This man… She had seen him as a Noah, and primarily as a Noah. The dream had given strength to that belief. But today, he seemed so much more human, with Noah powers and being a Noah as a side effect.

His mind was sharp and incisive, his intelligence and ability to think on the feet not confined to a dream. He had been a flirt possessing a marvelous way with words, words she did not believe as genuine. Facing a Noah, menacing and slippery, made to realise the risks at stake through interactions with such an enemy? Miranda had been put on her guard. His shades of humanity had not been evident in the dream, until today. And threatened to undo all that came before.

As she had listened to him speak, stunned by the inexplicable reality of recovering normalcy in arms unyielding but gentle, Miranda found herself inadvertently thinking about what Sofia had said. Miranda also found herself remembering what she had once confessed to Allen.

Being thanked, wanting to be accepted, how all that could touch… No Noah had ever accepted an Exorcist as anything more than an enemy to kill. No Exorcist had ever accepted a Noah as anything more than an enemy to kill. If nobody changed anything, how could anything change? If so, what needed to be changed? Someone had to start.

She was certain Allen was still out there, fighting for his own path. He had always been different. She wanted to help him, keep him safe. She wanted the same for Lenalee, who suffered over Allen's departure. Perhaps this was a gift from God, an opportunity so rare… Her Innocence had not rebelled or shown signs of changing her into a Fallen One, despite extending kindness to a Noah. It was enough for her to decide to risk a new decision for a new path.

There was a bigger picture to understand. If God had enabled Sofia to become an Exorcist to voice ideas to Miranda which had been repressed for too long, and God was now allowing the Noah of Desire to become friends with her, maybe… What could change?

Sheril Kamelot had extended kindness and taken unnecessary significant risks, which he did not need to do. It was only polite to thank him and oh, human to reciprocate. While talking to him, Miranda had realised several things, and she did not know what to think.

In the presence of Sheril Kamelot after the encounter with his coat, she no longer felt the urge to refrain from stammering or stuttering. Replaying the recent minutes of conversation in her mind after he had removed himself and the confines of his coat, she had not stammered or stuttered. She had stopped him from leaving so quickly. She had reached out. She wanted him to stay. As to why-

Why? Was this because she wanted to change the tide of the war? Because of Lavi? Allen? Lenalee? No. She wanted to get to know the man better. If a Noah could do such horrible things, yet also take unexpected risks no Noah would have chosen without betraying his family, then… maybe, they could be friends. And then the war might change.

But in order not to lose sight of the situation, and protect herself without betraying Marie, she had to remind herself what she was doing this for. Looking forward to tea with a Noah who was a married man was not something to view in any romantic light. All she could extend to Sheril Kamelot was friendship. And she was doing all this for Lavi. Allen. Lenalee. She was not doing this for herself. She had become braver, in wanting to take a new path. She wanted to change and end the war between Noah and Exorcists. She wanted- To ask Sheril Kamelot something.

Opening her mouth and about to call his name, she stopped. It could wait until the Garden of Versailles. Besides, with this distance, he could not hear her unless she significantly raised her voice. And he had to leave, before any of the Exorcists or Finders woke up. But for this night of no casualties on her side, and disaster averted… Gratitude was a whisper, more vulnerable than any she had ever voiced to him. 'Thank you, Sheril. Kamelot.'

Raising her eyes, she realised the man was still present. A dark portal had started to ripple beneath his feet, but he had stopped. And then he turned around.

She did not know what he was thinking, from that distance. A long thin face was solemn, lips at rest without any emotion displayed, and those eyes- They were not hard or cold. Fluid, contemplative, restless. The wind had stirred strands of long dark hair into minor rebellion. One hand was raised toward her-

And something slowly wound itself about her hair, while gentle strokes moved through her hair. Stiff bristles of a comb? No. If the wind had fingers, dexterous fingers invisible but knowingly massaging her scalp to create small spikes of pleasure with a firmness that was assuring and not painful, while neatening her hair into a ponytail- The wind died down.

Lips parting, Miranda stepped forward, one arm reaching out- But he had turned away sharply, rapidly sinking into the portal which closed and disappeared.

What had just happened, and why? She decided to ask him, the next time they met. But first, she needed to get to her friends. Heading toward the warehouse they were in, she was just in time to find Sofia regaining consciousness. Timothy had to be shaken awake, and the Finders were not difficult to rouse. Unmoving cables were easily pushed aside.

It was a good thing the Innocence was also inside this warehouse. All it could do was pile crates upon a certain crate to try to hide, which Sofia was quick to destroy. Using Time Record to enclose the cube somehow caused it to calm down and appear. This cute and hilarious Innocence made Timothy laugh at its crate-piling abilities. Miranda was the one to safeguard the tiny Innocence cube, as they quickly left the port and headed for a train which would take them out of Russia.

Having to write a lengthy report about what had happened was easier than telling Sofia and Timothy a highly-expurgated version of what had transpired. Sheril Kamelot had provided advice she could not avoid using, since she had to leave out everything they had spoken about and er, other non-verbal events which were making her cheeks hot, to recollect.

 _Honestly tell them what happened, up until Mercym appeared. As to anything I have said to you… I was being cruel and taunting, such as labelling you a useless exorcist. I was also having fun playing, unable to decide whether to kill your friends in front of you before sending you after them, or whether I should slowly kill you in a most appalling manner, then let them find your dead body. But before I could decide and act on a choice, another Noah appeared. Both Noah spoke to each other in a language you couldn't understand, ignoring you. Then they quickly exited through a dark portal, and you were left alive. You cannot understand what has happened this night, but it seems God works in mysterious ways, being kind enough to spare you and your friends._

She was lying. In a report. Which would be permanent records for the future, within the Black Order. And if she was caught- Feeling almost guilty, any doubt was dispelled by the thought of knowing Sheril Kamelot had spontaneously chosen to take the bigger risk of betraying his side. He had chosen to lie, so her friends could live and primarily enable a successful mission… because of her. If this was what she needed to do to maintain and protect that outcome, also helping him into making such choices, so be it. If only her conscience could be less forthright, needling her about intending to submit such a report during the trip back.

After hours of travel, the imposing headquarters of the European branch of the Black Order was a welcome sight. Komui had come to greet them, and she handed over her report. As she thanked the other Finders and Exorcists, ready to go back to her room, Sofia gave her a long hug.

Shallow cuts and bruises were numerous, but nothing had been broken. Almost everyone on the mission had vivid splotches of bruising around the neck, except for Miranda. Injuries were superficial. Everyone's feet ached, except for Miranda. All the mechanical golems had been irreversibly destroyed, but they could be replaced. Considering the numbers of Exorcists involved to retrieve an Innocence, and two unexpected Noah, this had been a very good outcome.

'Go and rest, Miranda. Thank you for a successful mission. You should take a warm shower and thoroughly wash your hair. I'm sure everyone else, such as Noise Marie and Arystar Krory, will be happy to catch up with you tomorrow.' With that, the other woman was quick to walk off, leaving Miranda staring after her.

There was nothing odd about such remarks, but Miranda could not forget an unusual expression on Sofia's face just before being hugged, after Miranda had handed Komui her report and turned around to thank the rest of the group which had also been on the mission. Sofia had looked as if she wanted to say or ask something, then decided not to do so.

What did Sofia mean? Miranda was certain her hair was still the neatest part of her. She had not disturbed it, after what Sheril Kamelot had done from a distance. Entering her room and closing the door, she reached up with one hand to undo the black cotton ribbon- And realised she was touching something else. Thicker, harder, tauter- Using both hands, a black leather cord was removed.

This was- Had Sofia noticed? What did Sofia think? Had Sheril Kamelot made a mistake, using something else instead of her black hair ribbon in his pocket? Think, Miranda. Think- She had time to study his back, when he had turned around to face a certain direction, before Mercym appeared. Binding his hair was- The same leather cord she was now holding.

He had kept her hair ribbon. And given her his hair accessory, to keep everything neat. Why was she suddenly thinking of romance novels, where lovers exchanged personal items? What had he been thinking? Looking at the leather cord in her right palm, she did not know whether to throw it away, or- Bringing it close to her nose, the masculine scent of an unidentifiable aftershave or cologne lingered, mingling and possibly diluted with the scent of leather. It was not repulsive.

The unusual smell brought back a vivid mental snapshot of being able to rest while held securely within protective arms, breathing in a comforting mixture of soap and freshly-ironed linen and something exotically invigorating with a whiff of tantalising spice, lean muscles harder but just as cushioning as the alluring depths of his voice- Heavens, the smell was making her heady with the wrong ideas!

Hurriedly hurling it into the waste basket, Miranda nearly bolted out of her room to take a shower, using two rounds of shampoo for her hair. After brushing her teeth and donning well-worn silvery-grey cotton pyjamas, she was ready for bed. Sleep was a welcome idea. Taking a sip of water from the hot water flask she always kept in her room, Miranda dived into bed and pulled the covers to her chin. And turned off the bedside lamp.

It had been a successful mission. Why was she restless? What was she missing? Sofia, Timothy and the Finders were not badly injured- Barely injured. They had been almost completely enveloped in cables from neck to ankle, before being shoved ruthlessly through the roof of a large and tall warehouse. Being forced downwards or falling from such a height to the hard cement floor of that warehouse- Should not have resulted in such superficial injuries. The cables had cushioned the impact of a natural fall. Or the cables had slowed sufficiently during the descent.

And it would only have happened, if Sheril Kamelot had the intention of not killing them while minimising injuries. Bruising was most apparent around their necks. If it wasn't the impact through the roof rendering them unconscious, it was the pressure exerted by the cables. Their aching feet- He had not sent them head first, but feet first. Cocooning them in so many cables was also a form of protection, other than rendering them helpless. If he had intended to kill them, he could have easily crushed them to death, as easily as he had destroyed the Black Order recording golems.

Had he made these decisions on the spur of the moment, when attacking them? When had he gotten there? Had he arrived early at the start of the battle, to watch how Timothy and Sofia fought the akuma, before striking out? He had subdued the Exorcists swiftly enough. Positions of the attacking cables suggested the likelihood of him having made certain decisions, before capturing Timothy and the Finders.

Sofia had been temporarily separated from them and Miranda. Making Sofia go all-out in attack, to knock Sofia out… But before all that, the recording golems had been swiftly destroyed. When had Sofia lost consciousness? Before being sent through the roof, during the collision with the roof, or after going through the roof? And what about the rest?

Destroying the golems was understandable. Knocking out everyone but Miranda? Not killing anyone from the Black Order, despite all akuma previously present being destroyed? Miranda suffering no injuries? The story in her report would hold, but for a Noah to choose to be merciful from the beginning with ensnared victims who would have usually been killed, the Noah would require a very good reason to do so, even before this mission. Before this mission…. Oh. No.

Whoever read the report would never believe a Noah would intentionally do something like this, and see nothing wrong with her report. But if she could put these things together because she had enough personal information, Sofia Ling-Keris was also likely to figure it out. If Sofia had seen the leather cord binding her hair, then considered the story Miranda had narrated about the mission… Perhaps Sofia had already figured out enough about a certain Noah.

After a certain odd look Miranda could not understand, Sofia had unexpectedly given her a long hug, before voicing concern. During that hug, had Sofia noticed the unusual scent of the masculine hair accessory Miranda was wearing? Was that why Sofia had told her to go and wash her hair, and everyone else could wait until tomorrow to catch up with Miranda?

Marie had not come to find her, since they had finished the mission earlier than expected and he usually gave her time to rest. He would not knock on her door, seeing no light from underneath her side. When Sofia had told her to wash her hair thoroughly… had Sofia intended to protect her and prevent Marie from realising, by indirectly giving such instructions as concern? Miranda would have to talk to Sofia.

Not about eyes of gold which had looked at her in such an oddly vulnerable manner, when she had thanked Sheril Kamelot. Not about a Noah who could possibly be playing a game with Miranda, only to kill her when he decided it was over. Definitely not about a man who had maintained significant emotional distance and resistance in his personal body language… Until he kissed her gloved fingertips gently, watching her with an unspoken tomorrow somehow causing Miranda to forget about everything else, as she gazed into eyes of inexplicable torment and mystery, reminding her of secrets and music and darkness and so much she did not know…

A world beyond Time. And Exorcists. And Noah.

The thought of what that might mean- What she did not know- What had she wanted- He had pulled away, not her. He had a legal spouse. The spouse was fortunate. And she was with Marie. They were not legally bound, as- But- She too was fortunate. What was she thinking? Her hands were trembling. Turning on the bedside lamp and sliding out from under the covers of her blanket to shuffle over to the clean and almost-empty waste basket, Miranda crouched down and picked up the leather cord. Two questions suddenly occurring to her stilled her movements. Why had Sheril Kamelot chosen not to tell her the truth about sparing her friends with such light injuries, allowing her to think worse of him than reality had demonstrated? Why hold to his words to prove he was telling the truth to her, and spare Lavi?

She was not a unique exorcist, she could not fight as the others could, there was nothing a Noah could gain from an exorcist such as herself, maybe he was not seeing her as- Miranda did not dare to think on the possibilities. Too much speculation would affect her sleep this night. Moving away and opening a little chest of drawers sitting on her table, she was about to put the unexpected souvenir where her hair ribbon usually sat- And paused. Bringing it close to her nose, Miranda inhaled one last time, then placed the leather cord in its new temporary home, determined not to use it again before returning the alien accessory to its owner. She must ask for her hair ribbon to be returned. In the meantime, she could easily get new hair ribbons.

It would not hurt to lavish more attention on Marie, who was kind and faithful and protective, and did not deserve neglect. Dear Marie… If there was anyone else she might consider in a similar manner other than Noise Marie, it might be Arystar Krory, who had matured immensely. The rest were children, which she would do her best to protect. Never in a million years would she ever consider Sheril Kamelot in such a light, who must only ever be a friend.

Having decided upon her course of action while memories of a certain scent was vivid in her nostrils, Miranda Lotto fell sweetly and easily into dreamless sleep.

In Portugal, a plain black hair ribbon lay curled up, resting snugly within a black velvet pouch sitting inside a locked metal drawer in an explosives-resistant filing cabinet, which could only be opened by the Minister of Foreign Affairs in his office.

* * *

 **A/N end notes for this chapter** : Sofia Ling-Keris is an OC solely for this story, and not a main character. Hints of Miranda and Marie being together had to be incorporated. Being plagued by crack pairings does not help my time management, especially when there are quite a few other things I have to write about.


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